


Stealing the Lead

by TigerDragon



Category: Batman (Comics), Birds of Prey (Comic), DCU, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Canon Disabled Character, F/F, Reunions, Schmoop, always-a-girl!Dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-23 23:44:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerDragon/pseuds/TigerDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barbara doesn't let herself think too much about how badly she misses Rachel Grayson. Then the acrobat shows up unannounced and she can't think about anything else. </p><p>Will anything be different this time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stealing the Lead

Barbara Gordon’s apartment was about as secure as secure got - the kind of secure that made Supermax prisons green with envy. There were cameras, firewalls, motion sensors, alarm systems wired to the Justice League Watchtower, lasers, and possible a Thanagarian disintegration field if rumor was to be believed. It was not, in short, the sort of place that one broke into without a world-class mind, a fortune in tech, a very, very good reason and possibly a good method of dealing with Superman on hand.

With all of that in mind, Barbara had gotten out of the habit of expecting people to be in her home when she got there. Still, she only wasted half a second on surprise before having a charged taser aimed at the silhouette in her living room.

The lights snapped on automatically at all the sudden movement.

“I come in peace,” the black-haired tomboy sitting on her couch lifted both hands in the air, grinning out from under a Gotham Knights baseball cap and looking about like a juvenile delinquent skipping classes in jeans and a leather jacket that were both way out of style. “Also, I brought pizza.”

The heavenly smell of a high-fat, high-carb culinary masterpiece wafted across the room obligingly. Barbara’s mouth twitched up at one corner just a little. The taser was still trained on the intruder and humming with menace. Oracle spoke in a clear, firm voice, a voice that would brook no evasion or delay in being answered.

“What kind of pizza?”

“Pepperoni, sausage, bacon and every vegetable known to man. From Suzerri’s on Twelfth. If I try to put my hands down, are you going to tase me?” The knowing, charming twinkle in those dark blue eyes and the warm alto thrum of the voice that went with them were as bone-melting as ever, unfortunately. Worse, their owner knew it.

Barbara finally let the smile all the way out of its box. “Well, since you have good taste in pizza, I suppose I won’t. For now.” Flicking off the weapon, she returned it to its holster strapped to the arm of her chair and rolled over to her kitchen. When she had acquired a pair each of plates, napkins and bottles of beer, she returned to her guest.

Setting the dishes down, she held out the beer, refusing to let go once the other woman had reached for it.

“It’s been a while, Rache.” Barbara’s voice carried the tension of her long history with the visitor. “To what do I owe this impromptu visit from Gotham’s most eligible bachelorette?”

Rachel Grayson Wayne winced, but to her credit she didn’t break eye contact. Whatever else could be said of her, Bruce Wayne’s adopted daughter didn’t lack for nerve. “If I say I was ambushed uptown by the trust-fund brigade and needed a place to hide out for a while, will you let me off with a stern warning?”

Barbara raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, did you say that the fearsome Nightwing wants to hide from a group of very wealthy, very entitled, very boring and extremely unthreatening admirers?” She pursed her lips in a suppressed laugh. “And you need me for that? I can’t tell if I should be glad the reason is obviously personal or offended you’d think I’d buy your cover story.”

“The fearsome Nightwing could throw them a quip, a charming smile and a flashbang grenade, then vacate the premises. I, on the other hand, have no such luck.” Rachel shook her head, and her smile came back - rueful this time. “So there’s that, and I needed to see you anyway.”

The swell of disappointment in Barbara’s throat was highly annoying, and she took a drink to try to wash it away. “I see.” Pulling a slice of pizza out of the box, she deftly balanced the plate on her lap and turned towards her home office. “What do you need me to dig up? Must be time sensitive if you couldn’t call first.”

“Barbara,” Rachel said in a voice that stopped her cold, because it wasn’t professional or casual or joking. There was raw, real hurt in it, and it was nothing but serious. “I didn’t mean .... I’m not working a case. This isn’t about the job. I mean I needed to see you. For me.”

And there was the warm surge of hope and affection and all manner of things that Barbara didn’t want to be feeling at the moment, but couldn’t quite bring herself to ruthlessly suppress. She turned back around, voice softened from Oracle’s to Barbara’s. “It’s good to see you, Rache. I kinda wish it wasn’t, but it is.”

“Ouch.” Rachel brought her hand to her heart and slumped back against the couch, a little smile of her own playing on her lips. “You still know how to put the pointy end of the batarang where you want it, Babs.”

The redhead grimaced. “It is only because of my lingering affection for you that I don’t tase you for using that name,” she announced. Then she took a bite of pizza. “Well, the food helps your case, too.”

“You don’t like it anymore?” Rachel arched an eyebrow and recovered from her momentary devastation enough to take a couple of slices of her own. “I always thought it had, you know, old-fashioned charm. Like something out of _Leave it to Beaver_ or _The Rifleman_.”

Barbara snorted a laugh. “You got that last part right. Makes me think of floral aprons and vacuuming a living room with your best pearls on.”

Rachel started to giggle, tried to stop herself, failed miserable and wound up doubled over laughing on the couch with one hand supporting the plate of pizza and the other holding her ribs.

It was really stupid how charming that was. Barbara tried to resist, then gave up and laughed with her old friend.

“I was just,” Rachel finally managed to gasp out, “imagining someone trying to convince you to put on that outfit, and the look you’d have given them....”

Oracle grinned. “The look would be the least of it.” Rolling up beside the sofa, she punched Rachel’s arm lightly. “So, fleeing Romeo, tell me how you’ve been the last eight months. Not the job, I know most of that.”

“Not the job?” Rachel straightened up, juggling the plate gracefully, but she couldn’t keep a grin off her face. “What is this ‘not the job’ you speak of? I keep hearing people using strange words like ‘vacation’ and ‘private life,’ but I have no idea what they....”

“Rache.” Barbara’s expression cut through the jokes as easily as her voice did. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I get that. But don’t pretend that there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Okay.” Rachel peeled off the ballcap, ran her hand through her hair, then turned it over in her hands and stared at it for a minute. “It’s hard to explain. I... was out with Tim a few weeks ago. Just hanging around. Talking. He’s seeing a new girl. I was teasing him about it a little. We had a couple of drinks, got serious. Talking about people we miss who aren’t around anymore. And then he turns and says to me ‘Rache, you know that crushed gravel sound Bruce does with his voice when the cowl goes on? The one that makes scary muggers piss themselves on the spot?’ And I laughed and said sure, of course. And he says ‘Do you realize you’re doing it all the time now when you’re not doing the playgirl thing’?’ I make a joke, blow it off, don’t think anything of it. No big deal, right? Tim’s been worrying about my mental health since he was fourteen.

“Then, last week, I was working a case and I realized it was going to be a full twenty-four hour thing. That there was no way I was going to make the Knights game I was supposed to be going to the next afternoon. I hit speed-dial, the girl I’m going with picks up and says ‘Hello?’ and I suddenly realize that I don’t remember her name.” Fine, close-cut nails traced the edge of the cap slowly, and Rachel’s eyes followed them. “Not just one of those little brain blanks when the word’s on the tip of your tongue but you can’t think of it - I really don’t remember her name at all.”

Another sip of beer and a quiet moment after it let the conversation breathe a little. Barbara laid  a hand on Rachel’s arm. “The human being getting lost in the superhero, huh? One of the hazards of our work, I guess.”

“No, I... maybe, but I don’t think so.” Rachel blew out a long breath. “I think it’s more like I spend my whole life learning how to do one thing really, really well - okay, a lot of things, but they’re all about that one thing. And while I was doing that, I just figured everything else would work itself out. Go with the flow, do what seems right, ‘don’t worry, be happy.’ But tonight I was looking around at those women trying to talk me into a date and suddenly I realized that it wasn’t just that I didn’t like them - I wasn’t sure I liked _me_. And after I got the hell out of there, I started trying to remember the last time I was really sure I liked who I was when I wasn’t bouncing off rooftops and kicking bad guys in the face. Which... I guess is why I’m sitting on your couch.”

Barbara finished off her drink, and looked thoughtfully at Rachel while chewing another bite of pizza. After she’d swallowed and sat contemplative for another moment, she spoke. “Because you like who you are when I’m around?”

“I used to, anyway. I think I still do.” Rachel turned the cap over one more time, then tossed it to the other end of the couch with a flick of her hand and looked up at Barbara, her eyes the dark blue of the sky in twilight. “I remember I sure as hell liked myself the night you let me take you to prom, even if your Dad had me scared half to death I wasn’t going to pass inspection.”

A reminiscent chuckle brought a smile to Barbara’s face. “Didn’t keep you from getting me home late,” she recalled with a sly look. “He told me never to tell you, but he was impressed by your _chutzpah_ , even if he did have to give you a good tongue-lashing for the principle of the thing.” The pizza slice met its demise. “It was a good night.”

“Yeah.” Rachel’s smile was warm for a moment with memories of her own. “I think you broke every heart in the room in that dress. God knows you half-killed me with it. You know, I found out later than Bruce rigged our pagers so they wouldn’t go off? After all that sounding off about how I’d better be ready for duty if something happened.”

Laughing, Barbara shook her head. “Fearsome lectures are traditional, after all. I’m fairly sure that he, Dad and even Mister Pennyworth were almost more invested in our prom experience than we were.”

Wiping her fingers clean with the napkin, Barbara gestured to the room in general. “So, my friend, the night is young. Dessert? First-person shooter match? I could put some music on and boogie with your knees...”

Rachel’s face changed for a heartbeat, a careful emptiness to hide the pain that still showed in her eyes, and then she found a smile that didn’t - quite - break Barbara’s heart. “You have popcorn in the house? Because I know you have every movie known to man.”

“Somewhere,” Barbara agreed, already halfway to the kitchen. “You get your very own bowl, too, since you insist on all those gross topping combinations.” The microwave whirred to life, and the redhead reappeared, catching Rachel staring into space. “So were you thinking quality or something so bad it’s hilarious?”

“ _The Mask of Zorro_ , so a little of both.” Rachel’s eyes stayed a little bit of focus, her fingertips brushing a few tangles from her dark hair and spilling curls into her face in the process. “‘Yes, were you looking for something?’”

“‘A sense of the miraculous in everyday life.’” Barbara smiled. “Also swordfights.”

“The necessity of swordfights cannot be overstated.” Rachel chuckled and stretched, shedding her jacket in the process, then turned and gave Barbara a very long, very steady look and a small smile. “If I go fetch the popcorn, are you going to be mad at me for interfering with your personal empowerment?”

With a grand gesture at the kitchen doorway, Barbara smiled. “Not at all, since I’ll be using the opportunity to get the best place on the sofa.”

“You’re a devious and underhanded woman. I knew there was a reason I liked you,” Rachel retorted, still smiling as she got to her feet and headed for the kitchen. If she just happened to walk by Barbara in such a way that the jeans clinging to her hips and exceedingly well-toned ass passed by at about eye level... well, that was just a coincidental bonus. Purely coincidental.

There was an extra minute of mental rebooting that had to happen before Barbara could move again. With that body to distract them, it was a wonder Nightwing’s enemies could still function in a board meeting, let alone a street fight. Even kevlar plating and dark alleys could only do so much in that department.

Luckily, Rachel’s customary ransacking of the spice cabinet gave Barbara more than enough time to get comfy and pull up her movie library on the big plasma TV. “Cinnamon on mine, please,” she called. “And a pinch of sugar.”

“Just a pinch,” Rachel called back with a teasing note in her voice, “or maybe a good right hook?”

“A right hook of sugar is what I put in my first coffee of the day,” Barbara retorted. “Knocks the sleepy right out. And please tell me you didn’t use raw garlic on yours this time.”

“I plan to sit next to you,” Rachel replied as she glided in from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn and a second beer in each hand, “and I still remember that you made me sit on the other side of the room after that particular brainwave. So no.” She presented Barbara the bottle and bowl with a dramatic flourish. “Your refreshments, m’lady.”

With a grin and a noble inclination of her head, Barbara accepted. “My thanks, dame knight. For your service I award you this cushion and pleasing visual entertainment.”

“A pillow of my own?” Rachel exclaimed, determinedly straight-faced as she folded herself down onto the couch. “I am rewarded beyond my wildest imaginings. Surely, my lady’s fame for mercy, generosity and gracious kindness is woefully understated throughout the land.”

“Here, my most deserving champion, have another.” A throw pillow connected with the acrobat’s face with a soft _whump_ and a belly laugh from Barbara. “And another,” she added, scoring a second hit to the shoulders, “and a third for good luck.”

Rachel fielded the third pillow out of mid-air, propping it behind her head, and affected a beatific smile of contentment. “My lady is too kind, too kind indeed. I shall become bold if such favor is showered so consistently upon me.”

Laughing too hard to complete a sentence, Barbara nonetheless tried. “‘Bold’? Is that--” a fit of giggles broke her off--“what they’re calling it these days?”

Grinning herself, unable to quite keep a straight face, Rachel twisted herself up into a kneel on the couch and then leaned over Barbara in a way that spilled short dark hair about her face and brought them almost close enough to touch cheeks. “I don’t know,” she whispered, voice low and throaty in a way that still sent hot sparks racing up and down Barbara’s back in spite of everything, “is it?”

Rachel’s sudden closeness pushed laughter away and left Barbara feeling naked without it. “Rache,” she murmured, a hand going to the acrobat’s arm. The hacker couldn’t tell if it was to keep the other woman at a safe distance, or keep her from running, or just to feel Rachel’s skin under her fingers. Heart racing, she nonetheless kept steady eye contact. “What happens in the morning?”

The deep blue of Rachel’s eyes was almost lost in the dilated black of her pupils, but in spite of the heavy rush of her breathing she went still and quiet under Barbara’s touch and stared down at her without speaking for a moment, thirty seconds, a minute. “What do you want to happen in the morning, Barbara?” she asked at last, voice low and taut with heat but still under at least the pretense of control.

Green eyes drifting closed, Barbara tightened her grip on the curve of Rachel’s arm hard enough that it might have left marks. If it did, Rachel didn’t protest. “No matter how good I am at what I do, there’s too much world. I can’t stop all the evil, all the hurt.” She opened her eyes, taking in Rachel’s shadowed face. “So it’s logical that I reap the benefits of attachment as well as the drawbacks, isn’t it? If I’m going to cry over someone, I might as well laugh with them too.”

Rachel’s fingertips came up to rest against her jaw, the slim strength of them familiar as the hints of calluses and the low, electric throb it put through her pulse. “Very logical,” Rachel murmured, her voice husky with want but strangely gentle. “You’re still crying over me, babe? After all this time?”

Barbara smiled wryly. “Don’t tell, but I cry over everyone I miss.” Her expression softened. “You more than most, though.”

“Barbara Gordon.” Rachel said the words softly, but with such fervent emotion that they might have been a prayer. Then her expression cracked, a small smile stealing onto her lips, some of her irrepressible mirth leaking back into her voice. “If I kiss you now, is Dinah going to try to punch my head off again?”

A snort of laughter accompanied Barbara’s other hand finding Rachel’s waist. “Smooth, Casanova, real smooth,” she teased. “No, I am conveniently single at the moment.”  She pulled the acrobat closer and murmured, “Though I might punch your head off if you leave without saying goodbye. Again.”

“I had to...” Rachel stopped, her lips almost touching Barbara’s, and then laughed ruefully as she shifted her legs and hips to straddle Barbara’s lap more comfortably. “Nevermind. I will be here when you wake up in the morning unless more than a quarter of the city is on fire. Fair enough?”

Running her hands along Rachel’s thighs, Barbara grinned wickedly. “Fair. Please know that I have an excellent mapping program and will know exactly how much of the city is on fire at any given time.”

“I defer to your infinite wisdom, oh Queen of Excessive Digital Monitoring.” Grinning in return, Rachel finally lifted her other hand and cupped Barbara’s face between them before taking hold of her lips with a passionate kiss that had every sign of having been held long overdue.

 

* * *

 

“...cleared you for landing at Helsinki-Vantaa and Zinda will have wheels up in an hour. Keep me posted.” Clicking off the communicator and placing her tablet in the bedside dock, Barbara scrubbed at her eyes and yawned. It was time for coffee, and getting ready to run mission control for her Birds, and other worthwhile activities that also were convenient distractions from her personal life.

Someday she’d figure out how to keep her head when Rachel was around. Rachel, who Barbara knew would always be a drifter, who hadn’t come to terms with Barbara’s paralysis, who had half of Gotham in her proverbial little black book, was always going to be trouble.

“Do you always make flight arrangements from bed, or just when Dinah calls?”

Startled, Barbara rolled over. Rachel was sprawled over the other side of her bed, black curls sticking in every direction, an edge of the sheets tangled around her sculpted legs. “Uh, that depends,” the hacker answered, blinking. “You’re still here.”

“You promised to punch my head off if I wasn’t. I need my head. Ergo...” Rachel shrugged, a gesture that would have been slightly distracting clothed and upright and was rather more than that horizontal and wearing only the edge of the sheet.

Damn.

“Yes, right, of course,” Barbara murmured into the acrobat’s ear as she slid one hand along Rachel’s waist and up to cup her breast. “Couldn’t agree more,” she said into the other woman’s mouth, kissing her fiercely.

“Mmm.” Rachel agreed, easing her arm around Barbara’s own waist and bodily pulling her close, leaning into the kiss and maneuvering herself around the fixed stillness of Barbara’s legs with the same patient, careful skill she’d shown the night before. There had been no awkwardness, no hesitation about it - when Barbara’s legs needed moving, Rachel had done it without drawing attention to it, and now she was doing so again as her hands snaked down Barbara’s ribs and set about the work of making a shivering, gasping mess of her.

Barbara’s reciprocation, once she was capable of coherent thought again, was just as passionate and skillful. Rendering Rachel’s smart mouth unable to quip or do anything at all except moan and beg was a point of pride, and besides, the begging was extremely enjoyable. Maybe it was growing up in the circus, or perhaps all the traveling she’d done since, but the fact was that Rachel Grayson had a remarkably filthy mouth when she chose - or better yet, was driven - to use it.

“That,” Barbara announced once they were both lying tangled together, “was the best threat I’ve ever made.”

Rachel produced a low, husky laugh which was not quite a groan, ran a hand through the sweat-slick curls of her own hair, and then kissed her lips very lightly around an intimately teasing smile. “I hope so. If you’ve gotten better results with another one, I don’t want to hear about it.”

Barbara’s own low chuckle resonated through them both. “Don’t worry, I’m saving that one for when your ego really needs deflating,” she teased, lacing her fingers with Rachel’s, the mirth in her eyes mingled with the cautious affection. “A girl’s gotta have some reserve ordnance.”

“I wasn’t aware I was the subject of a hunting expedition,” Rachel teased back, though her lips curved in a much softer smile than was her habit when she lifted Barbara’s hand to her lips and kissed the knuckles lightly, “much less one requiring heavy weapons.”

“I just like to be prepared,” the redhead replied, placing a tender kiss on Rachel’s forehead. When she pulled back she studied her lover’s face with the keen attention she usually reserved for data feeds and surveillance footage. “Though I like to know what to expect even more.”

Rachel looked up at her through dark lashes, her expression thoughtful, her fingertips wandering very slowly over the line of Barbara’s collarbone as if trying to read braille off the bone under her skin. “When I asked you what you wanted to happen in the morning,” she murmured very softly, “you didn’t actually give me a straight answer. But I guess I probably owe you going first, regardless. I don’t know what I can do, what this work of ours leaves me left over to do, but I’m tired of screwing around and playing games and bullshit excuses about where I am and why I can’t be where I said I was going to be. I’m tired of making jokes because I don’t know what else to say to you.

“I’ve been in love with you since you were fifteen, Barbara, and you know that as well as I do. You know I’m a miserable excuse for a girlfriend, too, that I remember to call half the time if I’m lucky and write even less, but I think we have good times together too and...”

With a hand on either side of Rachel’s face, Barbara put an end to her lover’s speech. The kiss was long and deep like many of the others they’d shared that morning and the night before, but this one was tender rather than passionate, Barbara trying to pour years of longing and care into one pure moment.

“Yes,” she finally breathed into Rachel’s mouth. “That’s what I want. You, here, every morning you’re not wearing spandex out on some rooftop. I want you with me.” She punctuated it with another, shorter kiss. “I haven’t stopped loving you either, Rache. Not for a day.” Tangling her fingers into dark curls, she laughed for joy. “God, I’ve missed you so much.”

Rachel, expression as thoroughly stunned as though she’d been struck between the eyes with a hammer, gaped at Barbara for a minute as if the redhead had gone completely mad before wrapping her arms around the smaller woman and hugging her with a bruising, eager fierceness that suggested she had decided that if it was madness, she had every intention of taking advantage of it before Barbara came to her senses and tried to get away.

The redhead hugged her back with equal enthusiasm and significantly more than equal force. Rachel coughed, spluttered, tapped out against Barbara’s shoulder, and when she finally managed to speak again, it came out in a breathless wheeze. “Good god, Babs, how many hours a day do you spend with the weights?!”

“I am mighty,” she proclaimed with a kiss to Rachel’s jaw. “You should see my bench press.” Then she cuddled up to her girlfriend, a contented smile on her face. “Later. Now we bask in romance.”

“Aye aye, ma’am. Basking as ordered,” Rachel teased softly, her fingertips tracing the line of Barbara’s bicep lightly. “Won’t catch me getting out of line as long as I’m within reach of you, that’s for sure.”

Rachel’s heartbeat filled Barbara’s ears. “Mmm. You are very wise.” Deft fingers caressed the acrobat’s muscular back. “And hot. Lucky me.”

“Mmm. And flexible, too,” Rachel teased softly as she lowered her head to kiss lightly behind Barbara’s ear. “Should I be thinking about coffee, or a second round of breakfast in bed?”

Turning her head to capture her girlfriend’s mouth in a sensuous kiss, Barbara ran her nails slowly down Rachel’s back. “I don’t want you thinking anything at all,” she murmured. “And I intend to ensure you don’t.”

“Miss Gordon,” Rachel sighed into her mouth, “I will happily leave myself entirely in your capable hands.”

Which, as it turned out, was precisely and thoroughly what she did.


End file.
